Some say that pain is the most efficient teacher.

They are, in most respects, correct. It is a rare kind of pain to literally be thrown into another world. And, 'world' is a word I do not use lightly. It is, as I have found, a tricky thing to define. Where I would usually have claimed that the place I find myself in these days (days, a funny constant to have at all) is fictional, I had the privilege to find out that it is in fact my new reality.

On the outside, it looks fun and exciting.

Those emotions are unfortunately some that cannot be felt without some level of self-delusion, as I have found. A kind of selective forgetfulness, in order not to fall into complete and utter madness that I would have no chance of returning from.

Because I hold my rational reasoning in high regard and would hate to lose it, even if it would make so many things far easier than they have been so far if I were insane, I have decided that I will use the time I promised the princess to think through my situation.

I am, as of now, alone in this world insofar that I am the only one who has memories of my 'original' – another word I use carefully, not knowing if it is actually that place that I originate form – world. This puts me in a lonely position, likely to react violently when it finally becomes too much. There is, unfortunately, no real outlet for this emotion, no cure. Surrounding myself with individuals and making them into companions and friends helps, but there can be no cure. Amnesia, for starters, would only be treating symptoms and I, for all the pain these memories of mine have brought me, have no desire to forget where I come from.

It is a rare kind of desperation that colours my actions. While I do regard my second life as very precious, I have no desire to continue it indefinitely. Certainly, I have set myself goals to accomplish, lofty ones at that, but they aren't impossibly far out of reach. Indeed, my definition of 'impossibility' has shifted greatly, and I find now, that the hogwash I told Katara about contiguity is rather astute. I will, at some point, if none of the other methods I come up with do anything, create a situation in which I will die, in order to have a chance at communicating with the Spirits in the Spirit World of this place.

This is a fact.

One that, I should say, doesn't scare me as much as it perhaps should. I am, as of now, quite confident that even if I do not manage to enter the Spirit World and communicate with its inhabitants, I will either disappear or be better prepared for my next life, should I get another. Something that, I am sure, is not worth contemplating until it occurs.

Therefore, and here and now within my lifetime, I will distract myself from this loneliness, this hurt. I will, for all that pain is said to be the best teacher, do my best to turn it into a bothersome constant that I can ignore if I set my mind to it.

But, there is a niggling question in the back of my mind that I do not mind agonising over. It is interesting to contemplate, after all. Who or what is the cause of this world's existence? It seems to me to be a power coming to the creators of the Avatar cartoon series. Or, some powerful being is amusing itself with creating this world after that example. Or, this world served as the basis of the series itself, the idea somehow induced into the creator's minds.

If I go with the theory that the production of this fiction as I knew it before being reborn alone was enough to cause this world's existence, there is nothing standing in my way of creating my own little world for universal quirks to dump unsuspecting persons in. Since I dislike the thought of any human having that much power and the sick fantasies of some authors should never be made into any kind of reality, I will disregard the idea on the grounds of making myself less uncomfortable. I am, after all, avoiding pain here as best I can.

Now, the amusement of some very powerful being – because, as I have mentioned before, I am unwilling to believe that what has happened to me doesn't take lots of power to accomplish – is something I wonder at. This amusement must be either the very patient kind, or the being has the ability to fast-forward through time to make it more interesting. That is, if amusement is something that isn't unique to humans. Unless, of course, humans can one day move others of their kind into until-that-point-in-time fictional worlds. Because all of this seems to me to be so very unlikely, that humans should one day ascend into what I equate to minor godhood, or at the very least powerful beings on a metaphysical plane, I will also disregard this aspect.

If this world has been in existence of its own accord, and the creators of a cartoon series in my original one got their ideas from this, coincidentally not changing even minute details about it that they knew of, it would seem that it would be possible that all the worlds thought up in fiction are in fact in existence already. It would also appear to me that my presupposed notion of a human's ability to think up their own thoughts and ideas might be incorrect. This would bother me greatly, because it would lead me to question whether my also presupposed notion of freedom of thought is a delusion.

And, once again, because it makes me so deeply uncomfortable, and opens up queries of how many other notions of mine are in fact false, I disregard the idea.

But the fact that this world and my original one are connected somehow, be it only through me and my unlikely existence with the foreknowledge of what happened in the cartoon, remains. But it's entirely shot to crap now with what I've done.

At the time, it seemed like such a simple decision. Well, it's consequences are anything but. If I have learned anything in these past few days, it's that impulsive action doesn't really work out for me all that nicely. One mistake is the necessary parent of another.

Pain, well, Azula's not easy to live with on a good day, and being forced to move around all the time, and even caring for a baby, she's irritable and prone to lashing out. With flames.

Because that's obviously the way to go.

I try not to hold it against her. She's ten, mentally, and I've begun treating her like it. She's been conditioned to react to anything she doesn't like with violence.

"Put your clothes back on, princess. We're not staying the night here, out in the open."

"But they stink!"

"Then you should've taken the opportunity to wash them."

"What? No, you should've!"

"Believe me, princess, I have no intention of touching your underwear, ever."

She colours bright red, "P-Pervert!" and accompanies the shout with a fist of fire that I only avoid because I know it is coming. At the very least, I get to hone my reflexes for attacks from behind.

What makes it worse for her, is not only losing all the comforts she's used to and has never lived without, but also that when I inspected her head injury, I came to the conclusion that she would need a professional healer or some kind of miracle. Like that water from the Spirit Oasis. If nothing else, when I do go back to the North Pole, I could maybe filch some.

There is also… a kind of swelling… in her… brain.

I don't know a thing about blood clots or even the human brain, but I think it's what's causing her to react so violently without measuring herself. She has no control and were I anyone else, I'd have suffered far worse than a few burns by now for chastising her when she's being worse than just arrogant and antagonistic. When she's purposefully causing hurt in others. She does it frequently and with great pleasure.

Well, I've decided I'll make it more painful than keeping her mouth shut could ever be, opinionated person that she is.

She hates me, to some degree, and reveres me at the same time. I've not told her any of my suspicions, but I've instated daily sessions of moving cooling water over her scalp and trying to dissolve that clot in her brain.

I don't feel comfortable enough trying to cut the clot up and moving the pieces out of her body, however. My control isn't good enough. The only thing I can do for her at the moment is to soothe the constant headaches and see that the rest of her brain is sufficiently bled-through.

Certainly, I can bend other people's spit, but that's nothing compared to controlling blood flow inside the body.

I need the full moon for that, and lots of practise before I do that kind of bending inside of her skull. It's bad enough that she's with me in the first place. I don't need a dead princess on my hands as opposed to the live one. Surprisingly enough, that would me more of an inconvenience.

Accepting my own inadequacy is… painful.

It's been an enlightening time.

So, here we are, the three of us, in an inn for once, and me feeling distinctly glad for the bathhouse on the opposite side of the dirt-road. I've asked the kind old lady who rented us the room to look after the brat for a bit. She bought the story of us fleeing from the Fire Nation without a doubt. And we are. Just for different reasons than she thinks.

Removing my mask for the first time in weeks for longer than it takes to wash my face or take a bite of food, I breathe deeply through my mouth. This has been a journey and a half. I haven't had the fun kind of female company, I've played surrogate parent to a brat I didn't father and a weird kind of minder for Azula. I deserve this break.

I sink into the steaming water, oddly enough alone for now, and lean my arms over the sides of the large basin.

I am, for once, alone in a room.

And suddenly, I have the desire for company, for voices to drown out my thoughts instead of my expected desire to use the opportunity for some me-and-my-other-neglected-bodily-appendages-time.

Drinking has always been a good coping mechanism for that, and the old lady did say to go indulge. I could, perhaps, even get laid. There are a few pretty young things in town, and so long as I'm not destroying anyone's future, I'll gladly have a go.

Turns out hitting on the mayor's daughter gets you privileges. Because she's misunderstood me.

Azula is snickering at my situation. The mayor's daughter, Teyumi, has decided that I am apparently testing the waters for a courting.

And, because I've promised the kind old lady from the inn some work in exchange for our stay, I'm sort of forced to go along with it. To a degree. I'm very evasive to meeting her parents, and Teyumi thinks I'm intimidated. Kind as she believes herself to be, she doesn't force me. Instead, we spend cutesy picnic dates with Tom-Tom, whom she adores.

The brat is soaking up all the attention. I swear he looks smug every time she hugs him to her ample chest. The brat and I will have words when this is over. Preferably out of Azula's far too nosy earshot.

I contemplated seduction.

But this is the kind of woman who will hunt me down for revenge if I do sully her innocence, of which I had no idea when I propositioned her subtly, and I don't have the patience for that. I'll never marry in this world, not until I know some things with certainty. It would be a world of pain, and for all that it teaches, I don't appreciate the lessons it's been doling out so far more than for their deductive value.

And, Azula does have some kind of moral code when it comes to courtships, the hypocritical witch. Which means, she sort of encourages Teyumi. It makes me wonder whether she would prefer to settle somewhere for the duration it takes me to figure out her head.

"No," she says, when I ask, with a scowl on her face that makes her look her mental age, "They'll catch up to us."

I don't need to ask whom she's talking about. There are rumours of a Fire Nation convoy following our trail. Not, that the people telling me those rumours know it's us they're looking for.

"So long as we don't leave the country, and in secret at that, they will inevitably find us," I say, and she crosses her arms over her chest, looking away. On any other face, it would've looked childish, but on Azula, I've noticed, anything looks imperious. But, I find petulance doesn't suit her. "All we can do, is control the setting when they do."

This catches her attention, and she glances back at me from the corner of her eye, looking away as soon as she spies the brat attempting to scale my shoulders. She, for all that she looks the part of a princess, even in disguise, has a problem with others receiving attention. And, since I've made it perfectly clear that I will give a baby the attention he needs, she's decided not to give him more.

As if it made a difference to the brat. He seems to dislike her. Naturally, she's decided that the feeling's mutual.

Not, that I blame him, when I recall how she decided he wasn't worth trading Bumi for. Not, that I can't understand her reasoning. I just would've gotten him back differently than a hostage exchange. Hostages, I've found, are far more trouble than they're worth, anyway.

"We'll have to move on from here soon, a day after tomorrow at the latest, I'd say. But from here on out, I would be on the lookout for suitable locations for meeting them. Locations that we can easily leave behind, if things don't go as we want them to."

"And how do we want them to go?" she asks, suspicious of my motives. Which she is right to be. Which also plays into my hands. I need to unload one of my burdens.

As much as I would like it to be Azula, it will have to be the brat. Looking after them both is exhausting, and practising my fine-control bending on a capillary level doesn't help with that.

I lift my shoulders, simultaneously making the brat fail, and annoy Azula with my lack of poise. "Either we get them to leave us alone for the time being. Or we secure ourselves a protection detail. One which I might add, won't consist of more than your friends, if I have anything to say about it, and at the moment, I'm the only one who does."

Getting her to agree is a struggle and a half, even if essentially, it's also what she wants. She dislikes me just enough to want to make everything into a fight. She's slowly but surely getting a handle on how to control her bending.

Trying to burn my face off has a lot to do with that. I'm just glad she has the sense not to try while the brat sits on my shoulders. I have a suspicion that it has more to do with Mai than the child himself. She does feel genuine emotion towards Mai and Circus Girl. I think. Maybe? I'm basing this thesis on how deeply their betrayal at the hot springs prison must have cut.

Monsters come with every colour eye, every shape of face, every kind of body.

Take me, for example. I'm trying to reshape the future by means that anyone who isn't part monster wouldn't be able to stomach. I've beheaded a man, and traumatised many others.

It won't be the end of it, either.

Azula and I leave the village in the dead of night, and back on the road she reverts back to a bratty child. I hadn't noticed how much more bearable she was with the comforts of a roof over her head and access to a bath. It's odd, how we interact. I tell her to do something, she refuses and says I should be the one to do it, then I make a comment that embarrasses her, and she does it herself. This repeats itself over the course of the day five to twenty times.

In the beginning, this was exhausting, but it became a routine of sorts, and I have a feeling if we let it be for a day, I'd feel like something was missing.

It reminds me, once again, of something I once read, Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the over-compensation for misery. Fitting, in a sense, I believe, for most people who haven't had their midlife crises yet, to tell them that 'no, you're not happy with how things are, and you're going to have to change that'. Fitting for Azula in the sense that she has found delight in other's misery, and takes action whenever she can to further it, so that she might feel better about herself and her life.

She's a creature that thrives on a feeling of superiority.

It's too bad that, for now, I'm the one with all the power.

We decide on a village so small it's barely worthy of the name for the confrontation with Mai and Circus Girl. With forest all around, we have good chances of escape, especially with the river nearby.

Five days of stationary waiting by the riverbank, which I use to practise my precise bloodbending, even in daylight, although it's fairly exhausting, and I should be saving my strength for when Azula's friends arrive. I find it imperative that I get rid of her as soon as possible, and I'm fairly sure that removing that clot will be a large step towards her recovery.

During this time, Azula herself practises her own bending, and the brat learns to toddle. I manage to keep an eye on him while I practise, since by now I can feel when humans are in my vicinity when I bloodbend.

Mai and Circus Girl arrive suddenly, without preamble, and it's only my quick reflexes that allow me to roll out of the way of a few punches and stilettos, even as I grab the brat from his attempts at running along the riverbank. Azula, too, I note with some slight surprise and wariness, is geared for a fight.

Two steps backwards, and I am ankle-deep in the water. This is my territory, and Circus Girl will have to be very careful if she wants to engage here. A small fist curls itself into my shirt.

So, this is how we warily begin to talk.

"Azula," Circus Girl says, looking forlorn and hurt at the way Azula appears battle-ready.

The girl herself looks torn. She knows she needs me, and she needs me to cooperate with healing her. She has, as of now, no idea what my motivations are. And I'll do my best to keep it that way. Which is why her only choice is to go along with my suggestions. They have nothing to bargain with, at the moment, except for the slowly approaching squad of firebenders in the forest. But Azula and I can be gone within seconds, travelling down the river at a speed they could never hope to follow without machines. The forest here is dense enough that it would slow them down significantly, so really only rhinos would manage to have them catch up with us when we rest. However, if we manage to secure passage on a boat, especially if I help out a little, we will be gone without a trace.

"Tell your soldiers to stay back," I say, and Mai nods sharply, gesturing with a hand that still holds some knives.

"You said you would return my brother upon the fulfilment of your demands," she says, eyes murderous.

I shrug slightly, "I did. But you're no longer in a position to fulfil those demands, are you?"

"It was all a ruse in the first place!" she spits, and I'm tempted to laugh. Sometimes I even manage to fool myself into believing that I'm a man of my word.

"Of course it was," I agree in a flat voice, more amused than anything at this point. "The princess and I intend to continue on our little journey," I announce without preamble. I want to leave the brat with Mai, but I want to see if I can get anything out of her for it first, "Preferably without being hunted."

Circus Girl, once again, only says her friend's name, "Azula."

The princess turns her head to the side. A clear showing of lingering hurt that cuts Circus Girl deeply. Azula must still be smarting from how they handled her, as though she could not be given vital information that had absolutely everything to do with her. Their fear will also still be fresh in her mind, what with how willingly she followed me as we fled Omashu.

She has yet to awaken her desire to inspire terror in others. Perhaps her brother's banishment was cause for her to believe that only fear would keep her safe. It works very well for her father, after all, whereas her uncle with his grief fell from grace for love. I wonder how she would have turned out had her mother devoted more attention to Azula, instead of seeing only her hated husband in the little girl.

This is not the time for speculation, however. These thoughts are rendered moot by Azula's current set of circumstances anyhow.

For now, I need Mai to demand the return of her brother once she realises only prolonged exposure will allow for any forgiveness on Azula's part. So long as Mai desires it, of course. Circus Girl does, that much is evident.

"I demand the return of my brother. If you comply immediately, I will consider out earlier agreement fulfilled."

I consider arguing. But at the moment there is little gain in that course of action. Furthermore, she still owes me that favour. I very much want to be able to cash it in some day.

"Alright," I agree easily and beckon her closer even as I move a step towards her. I half expect Circus Girl to stop her friend, to demand that I be the one to forsake the advantage of the close river, but she just watches mutely as Mai cautiously comes to stand before me.

"No."

Azula's voice proclaiming disagreement is loud and clear over the sound of water lapping at my feet and the rustle of wind in the trees.

"What?" Mai questions, disbelief clear as she stares at the princess.

"He will not hand it over," she states, and I'm beginning to feel curious about what she intends. What in her convoluted mind has her believe that A, she could control my actions; B, Mai would agree to what she demands when her priority is clearly the brat, since she did not inquire after Azula's actions before attempting to secure him; and C, the continued presence of the baby to be somehow beneficial to her?

I decide to wait this out. I'm curious about their reactions. This might also provide some insight into whether she views the other two as tools or friends.

"What? Azula, why are you doing this?" Circus Girl asks, dismayed.

Azula chooses to ignore her for the time being, her focus on Mai. It feels like there is a challenge in the air, a rink being laid out before us. A test of will? Of convictions? If it is one, she has chosen the time for it well. If Mai bows to her decision, simply because it was Azula who made it, Azula will have established her dominance once more. Both over Mai and Circus Girl, as well as illusorily over me, for if Mai no longer wishes to take her brother, I will be stuck caring for the brat. The brat who looks quite interested in and aware of the proceedings.

"A leader," Mai says lowly, carefully and dangerously, "Is trusted when the outcome of their decisions is beneficial to the one who obeys them."

Holy beefcake, she's telling Azula to give reasons and give them now, or it will be violence she receives in place of her fulfilled will.

Mai knows that this will have consequences. And she is prepared to meet them head on. What gives her the courage for it is likely the fact that Azula still doesn't have her memory back, and the fact that I was about to hand over her brother without protest. What provided her with the motivation to go against Azula in this were probably the recent violent events as a – when regarded in a certain light – direct result of Azula's decisions.

"Trust!" Azula's shout is as startling as it is gratifying. "If a leader cannot trust that they will be obeyed without question, the leader must choose appropriate punishment to be the motivation for future occurrences!"

It sounds now like they're spitting textbook answers at each other. Come to think of it, they must have met in school or something. I wonder, how did they all become friends? Innocence and naiveté will have guaranteed that Circus Girl finds no fault in Azula's behaviour. But Mai?

"Azula, we're your friends! You can-" Circus Girl tries to placate, but Azula interrupts her.

"Friends! Don't make me laugh!" Her voice is so brittle, I think she's more likely to cry, "It took him for you to tell me what was going on at all! Why we weren't in the palace, where everyone was, why you looked so much older! How dare you call yourself my friend?!"

Azula is holding back tears.

What the hell. Azula, speculated sociopath, is holding back tears.

Mai's usually cold expression has morphed into one of surprise. Circus Girl is already crying, hiccups and sniffs colouring the picture as though she were the hurt, the betrayed. There isn't much left and she would be outright brawling. While I find her display revolting, there is a part of me that wants to reach out to Azula, the little temperamental chit whose company has grown on me these past weeks, and provide some steady comfort.

I note it with surprise. And weariness.

I cannot trust it. I can't trust that she is genuinely this upset and not manipulating every single one of us masterfully.

And yet, it's a step in the right direction. After this show of vulnerability, Mai and Circus Girl will no longer fear her as absolutely as they have. Their perhaps misguided sensations of understanding, sympathy and empathy will both allow for emotional comfort for Azula, as well was provide a far more deeply reaching basis for manipulation.

This, I realise, is what Azula wanted. To accuse childishly – as befits her current mental age – and regain servants who will do her bidding. There is the possibility of this being genuine, of course. Which is the only thing holding me back from just handing over the brat to Mai, in order to watch Azula's reactions.

It would also provide her with an example of how anything she desires, anything she demands makes me want to do the exact opposite. Which would give her relatively solid grounds for manipulation, once more.

Also, while it might have been information Azula would have liked to have that pertained her, it was not essential to her survival, so long as she was kept in a safe environment. Really, this is all my fault, and I can't begin to say how funny that is.

"Ah," I say, allowing a smirk to surface, "Perhaps I should leave you to it."

"Not before handing over my brother, you're not," Mai says, focus once again on me.

So this is her decision. Good for her, I suppose. As for Circus Girl…

"Ooooh…" she brawls, "Noooohooo – hic – Azu-zulaaaa"

"Shut up!" The princess snaps. Circus Girl disobeys. "I said SHUT UP!"

Her shout is accompanied by a fist of fire. Circus Girl will not move. Mai can only watch with wide eyes as she tracks the path of the attack.

A scream tears itself from her throat.

I don't have the time to note all of it. I don't have the time to cancel out the attack. I'm not standing at the right angle, and Circus Girl is too far from the river.

The only thing left…

With adrenaline pumping through my veins, my heartbeat thumping loudly in my ears, cutting off the guttural noise coming from Mai, I shift my stance. One hand moves upwards from my side, my feet shift as though for a dance, and I take control of Circus Girl's body.

I make her throw herself out of the path of the attack.

It's a heady feeling, knowing the utter control I have over her limbs. And with it comes the realisation of why Katara found it such a horrendous technique. With the power I have over Circus Girl, I have taken her freedom. Her body is no longer hers. She is my tool.

I relinquish my hold over her, and feel the beads of sweat trickling down the side of my neck.

Ah.

Exhausting.

I don't think I'll be doing that very often.

"Ty Lee!" Mai rushes to her side, "Are you alright?"

Circus Girl's breaths are coming in short gasps and she doesn't look like she's with us at the moment. Good job there, self. You traumatised another person today. Does that fulfil the monthly quota?

Azula herself looks… very much like she did when she burnt two people to lovely charcoal sculptures.

But this time, I'm not taking her and running. I very much doubt I could. The only thing I would be capable of now is to form a platform of ice that can carry me downstream.

I have the urge to run a hand down my face. This is nothing short of a clusterfuck. Maybe I should just… leave this be. I'm not all-powerful. Far from it, when I think of how much damage I've caused only this one girl so far.

"What a mess," I murmur, checking on the location of the firebenders in the forest. They've moved closer. A bit more, and I'd feel threatened.

Actually, I already do. I'm not in a condition to fight them and win.

"You!" Azula rounds on me, pointing her finger accusingly, "This is all your fault!"

I chuckle. Which infuriates her further. "Of course it is," I agree, and my tone is so dry that she takes it as sarcasm.

Even though I did not refute her words, she takes them as though I did, and makes to launch some more fire at my face.

Surprisingly, I don't even need to move to dodge, as a stiletto cuts through the air, making Azula yank her arm back, for fear of it being sliced to a bloody mess. Mai.

"That's my brother you're attacking," her voice is cold, yet full of fury. First her friend, her precious friend, then her brother, her infant brother. Azula picked the wrong day to attack her allies, temporary as they may be.

Dear me. Azula will have learned an important lesson today. Never expect compliance from someone when attacking their family member and they are in a position to prevent it.

I tend to live in the front of my head. It allows me a margin of peace. Distraction, nothing more, from what I have lost, what I have missed and who I used to be. Now though, it is time that I made use of my literal emotional maelstrom. It is time that I allow the disgust I have for this place and its people, much like I harboured it for my own, to surface. Self-flaggelation does nothing but stall for the inevitable realisation that guilt is not carried out in silence, and that it must be placed with awareness.

I am not at fault here. Not entirely. To say that would be to treat the other parties as children, slaves, or idiots, and to take a burden I have no desire for: a scapegoat. I have no guilt to carry but my own, and it is no heavier than the weight of my own existence.

It's time for me to take the moral high ground and stay on it. Freedom is my goal, though what is it worth, if it is only I who is free to enjoy it?

"We're done," I murmur. It doesn't shatter the tension.

But it does give them a way out of this situation that doesn't involve a corpse or two.

"I don't care for more squabbles today. I will hand over the brat," I say, carefully positioning myself between Azula and Mai, "And I will move on. Know that whoever comes with me lives with simple rules: do your own laundry, you eat what I find, or find something yourself, and any complaining will be thoroughly ignored."

With that, I remove the brat from my chest, rather unsuccessfully, for he has his small fists curled tightly into my shirt.

"Don't be a brat", I tell him, ignoring my own feelings on the matter, when he refuses to let go of my collar.

"Ba!", he says.

I pry his strong little fingers away. "Hey, hey", I soothe, "You're safe. You're with your family."

"Nnnn- nuh!"

I hope that first part wasn't the precursor to any messes in the kid's diaper.

"This won't be the last we see of each other", I wink at him.

His bottom lip quivers and the tears he didn't shed until now begin to gather in his eyes. "Ka!"

It's bizarre, this scene we're making, and everyone around us is watching with open mouths how he won't stop clinging to my hair. That really hurts. I am seriously considering cutting it short, even though I will look grotesque with hair like a hedgehog. This is the desperation a baby drives me to.

An extraordinary baby.

But a baby all the same.

"Tom-Tom! Cease this nonsense at once!", Mai shouts from behind him, so directly at me, really.

He screams.

That's hurting my ears. I don't think a slight case of tinnitus would be out of place after this. Lovely. Exhausted, attempting to do the right thing and grant everyone their autonomy without actually granting it, because that never should have been my power to begin with, and partly deaf.

"God, you baby", I mutter in a language I haven't made use of since my second set of parents told me that it was creepy to talk to myself and settle in to endure until he tires. I hear babies do that sometimes.

But, miracle of miracles, he ceases the noise-making and instead sniffles at me pathetically.

"That's right. This screaming is rather childish, don't you think? You're what, two now? Time to get a grip. What do you think you'll accomplish like this, huh? Kick up a goddamn fuss like that if you know you'll get somewhere with it, brat", I lecture and… I cannot believe this is working.

How is this working?

This kid isn't a kid at all.

I wasn't just projecting unreasonably. This little guy must be from my world. He's even from an English-speaking country. The chances… are probably marginally slimmer than there being another rebirth into Avatar. Can he speak yet?

Probably not. Speaking was a challenge and a half. He just hasn't had anyone to motivate him to talk in two years. And, damn it all, it's been close to eighteen for me. Even as I hand him over to his stunned sister, I say, "I'm around until the princess is back to her right old self. But after that, I'm going to see if I can't change the world. Tell me why I should bother with a baby while I do that. Give me any reason at all."

In another world, I had a large family. With two older siblings I had become an uncle thrice over by the time I was twenty-five. Both my parents were younger siblings as well, so I had cousins en masse. All of them needed looking after at some point. That way, I got to experience of being the caretaker and of being the one taken care of.

Which might be the reason for my reluctance to get rid of the brat now. But I can't take him with me where I'm going and he's safest where he is now. Perhaps one day when all this is over, I can kidnap him for real. He knows all this.

Could I… Mai owes me a favour. I could keep in contact with him through her? But she would have the power to skew any messages of mine and also wouldn't always be there to read any of it to him. Maybe someone permanent in his household? Someone who could be trustworthy with the right motivation?

However, this discovery hoes not make for an instant family-like connection. It doesn't guarantee anything at all. The only way for me to achieve my desired understanding is through honesty. But depending on the brat's personality, with the disadvantage of not being able to speak yet, if I shared everything now, before we have achieved equal footing, our dynamic might be screwed from the very beginning.

Damn, this is complicated.

He needs to speak first. Then, and only then, can we figure something out.

"So this is what you wanted all along," Azula accuses. And, she's got me there.

She doesn't mention the strange language I spoke in, that the brat seemed to understand. Mai cradles her brother carefully, with a mistrustful air. She perhaps thinks I've done something to him, then? Well, no matter.

Nothing could make the situation any weirder at this point, I think.

Except for maybe the parrot sitting on Ty Lee's shocked head.

[Drop me a line]